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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448387">in through the vents</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aplethoraofthings/pseuds/aplethoraofthings'>aplethoraofthings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Kidnapping, Stalking, allusions to future bodily harm and/or death, allusions to potential rape/non-con, there's eiwata and watamada if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:14:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aplethoraofthings/pseuds/aplethoraofthings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mayoi slips in through the open window along with the night breeze, careful to avoid the papers on the desk as he enters the room. He’s a far cry from the cramped space he shared with Alkaloid; he’s on the other side of the housing complex from his new nice roommates that he’s never brought himself to even look in the eye, and he’s far away from the nice new bed that is great for crawling under but far too much for him to sleep in.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in through the vents</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mayoi slips in through the open window along with the night breeze, careful to avoid the papers on the desk as he enters the room. He’s a far cry from the cramped space he shared with Alkaloid; he’s on the other side of the housing complex from his new nice roommates that he’s never brought himself to even look in the eye, and he’s far away from the nice new bed that is great for crawling under but far too much for him to sleep in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he’d be able to catch much sleep, not tonight, no. Not with the illicit flashes he caught of a certain Switch member during dance lessons and Switch practice. It was risky—so risky—with Natsume's intuition and Sora's unique perception making it difficult to even steal the slightest of glances. But now…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But now...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayoi moves across the room without a sound, keeping his quickened footsteps and heavier breathing silent despite his mounting excitement. Sora lies splayed out across his large bed, most of the sheets either kicked off or twisted around his small form, the picture of boyish innocence. Ah, yes, he hates being restrained right? So it wouldn't be bad to untangle him. No. No, not at all. And if he happened to brush against the scratches on his leg that he got from running through that rough underbrush, or if his fingers happened to trail against soft, pure skin, washed with the gentle soap he'd bought with Hajime, or if he happened to comb through that lemon-lime hair that twists like the cotton candy he bought at the amusement park...well, those would all be accidents, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just before his fingers touch the sheets, paranoia flashes through him, hot and nauseating. He yanks back, holding his own hand close to his chest. Shadows flit across the floor, but no one seems to have stirred. Sora mumbles, and Mayoi darts under his bed, cowering at the shuffle of sheets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He draws a breath slowly—shakily—silently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayoi blinks in the near darkness, but there's no footsteps on floorboards or suspicious whispers. There's nothing. Nothing at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a sound, Mayoi crawls out from beneath Sora's bed casting a glance back at him. The nightlight casts sparkles across his soft cheeks, a constellation lurking just beneath pale skin. He gazes, enraptured, bringing a hand up to cushion his own red cheeks as he gazes—until there's a tap at the window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drops to the floor with a squeak, heart pounding. The tap comes again, and he tenses in time, pressing himself further into the cold, unyielding wood beneath him. Again, again, until it turns into a sickening scape—and stops with a simple crack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cautiously, Mayoi rises into a crouch, eyes trained on the window across from him. The night outside is dark and unsuspecting, the normally bright buildings of the ES complex abandoned and asleep. Peeking in from out of frame are the leaves of the tree that grows next to the building, it’s boughs so heavy with leaves that even walking under it is a danger. Ah—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So it was nothing after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayoi presses a hand to his chest to still his beating heart and looks back over to Sora, matching his shaky breaths with Sora’s calm rhythm. Soothed, sated, he turns his gaze away, Waking to the bed beneath the window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silvery hair that threatens the beauty of the moon winds down a toned back in a river of silken waves woven together, lips—rose pink—press gently against the giant plush of the ES president that he clutches close the way a child holds a teddy bear or a gentleman holds a lover, Hibiki Wataru sleeps, still and quiet, a sleep mask pulled over his eyes, on brand even while unconscious. Mumbling, Watatu shifts, letting his loose t-shirt ride up to reveal his midriff, toned and tantalizing. Mayoi's eyes, unbidden, follow the line of Wataru's exposed stomach up to where it runs perpendicular to the empty bed of Subaru, and up higher to meet the cold emerald glare of Madara Mikejima.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayoi flinches, a short scream echoing in the large dorm. Pain sparks in his gut, and again in his cheek, and just like that he’s been pinned to the floor. He should go limp, he should scream out apologies, but instead he writhes and squirms as a worm trapped away from the safety of dark earth. His teeth gnash, his fingers grasp, but Mayoi is grappled in a grip that will leave him painfully (delightfully) bruised come morning. If he’ll live till morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa there,” Madara mutters, the way one would still an unruly horse. “Can’t have you doing that! Hush up now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something soft is shoved in his mouth, something that tastes of overly sweet sweat and freshly laid compost mixed with old earth. Mayoi’s eyes water and he gags, chokes, but his lips are sealed with a fat strip of tape before he can spit it out.  Arms pinned behind his back, ankles held tight together, Mayoi is hauled up and marched out of the large dorm. He blinks in the stark light of the hallway, but he has no time to be bewildered before he is slammed once more into the floor. This time there is rope, and this time he has been hogtied and now his options are to stare up with wide guilty eyes or keep his gaze lowered to the floor. Lowered to where it should be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wataru presses his back against the door to the dorm, leaning most of his weight on it. His braid slides over his shoulder in slow, serpentine motions, shimmering in the fluorescent light. The rest of the rope hangs loosely from one hand, the tape from the other. Both are in a stupidly bright rainbow that would be much more at home in a circus act than binding a wretch caught spying on innocents, but everyone knows that Wataru has never been afraid to defy conventions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My oh my, what have we here? A stalker? A mystery? A pervert here to peek at people in their sleep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Defnietly the third option.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What a boring response! Where’s that childlike imagination you’ve got locked away?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayoi glances between them, then ever so carefully begins to inch away. Without even a turn of his head, Madara plants his foot on his side, ready to crush his guts if he would dare to flich too hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That answer wasn’t even right! Clearly, we’ve found ourselves an exceptionally large worm. I think we should return the ground, the poor thing doesn’t even know where he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Madara chuckles, giving him a sidelong glance. Wataru gives him an animated shug, poofing   away the things in his hands with the little blubs of sound effects like one would see in a manga, and continues. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, it's not like I see all that much wrong with my fellow ceiling dwellers actions. They were done out of a pure kind of love, no~?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that Madara furrows his brows and twists to face him fully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, that's where you're definitely wrong!? Breaking and entering is a crime, at least, not to mention that he was about to do a lot more than just watching, right? You’ve always been a weird one, but is there something you need to talk to Mama about~?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do more than just observe? I only woke up when you stepped on me, you know. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>Amazing </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was, to be so suddenly awoken with such a bright burst of pain, only to see such a well choreographed kerfuffle! And to think that just before that I was being observed with such intensity, yet I remained so blissfully unaware! Aah, how wonderful…” Wataru hugs himself and shivers with eyes closed, a bright blush blooming on his cheeks as he lets out a noise that embarrasses even Mayoi. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But with that said-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wataru’s eyes snap open, the mirth gone from his too-wide smile. The lights seem to dim, flicker, and though Mayoi’s eyes burn from the strain of looking up, but he finds that he can’t look away from Wataru’s cold gaze, even though he feels his soul being sucked into the void of Wataru’s pupils the way stars are doomed to spiral into the depths of a black hole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-I simply can’t condone hurting children.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mayoi cringed as much as he could in his bonds, his shoulders twinging in pain at the motion. He tried to wiggle his fingers, remembering all the ways he could worm out of rope, but he finds that his hands now have been bound together completely, clasped as if in prayer. Above him, Wataru produces his phone, angled like he’s threatening to take a picture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Eichi insisted that I have a way to contact some of his private bodyguards, in case of emergency. If you'd like, I can give them a call. Of course, they’re even more likely to leave his body in a ditch somewhere or sue for more money than his family is worth than you are…” Despite himself Mayoi starts whimpering at the mention of his impending death. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...which I don’t think is appropriate here. There’s a teaching moment here, isn’t there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there~? Well, I may be doing better at being everyone’s Mama, but I feel like some maternal rage is justified here…I don’t believe he fully realizes how lucky he is to still have functioning fingers right now, for example.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That may be so, but are the roles of villains and anti-hero not relics of our past, an inevitable shadow cast by the bright light of our shining future! In the end, though the roles have been cast, whatever path we take is our own to walk! Amazing!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re truly leaving it all up to me! It’s rare for you to depend on your Mama, Wataru-san~. Does this make you one step closer to calling Mama?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I've never even called my own mother Mama though? Well,” he breaks off into a giggle, “I’m sure however you choose to handle will be fine, since you’re perfectly capable, oh Master of Festivals~"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wataru gives Madara a clap on the shoulder, letting his fingers briefly trail down his bicep before opening the door, filling the space to keep Sora from peeking into the hallway. There's a soft "Ho ho~?" from inside the room, fuzzy with sleep and distantly tinged with anxiety. Wataru steps inside, and in the shadows Mayoi can make out the tail of Wataru's braid, which raises up and sways back and forth at him. Maybe it's scolding him for being so arrogant, to think that he could stand in the presence of an Oddball. Maybe it's waving him a final goodbye, knowing he won't be returning from whatever hell Madara will drag him to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door clicks shut, and Madara's gaze slides back to Mayoi the way a hardened criminal points a gun at a hostage. Mayoi tries to swallow around the sock in his mouth, feeling the cold sweat trickle down his spine in an echo of the icy fear pooling in his gut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Madara narrows his eyes, his feline smile sharp—threatening—hungry—and kneels down by placing most of his weight on Mayoi's hip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, I'll take real good care of you."</span>
</p>
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